


it's late (comes of sticking it up your sleeve)

by SmugglerofSass



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Gen, ace/platonic/pre relationship its pretty vague, and absolutely inspired by my tendency to hang out in graveyards, burial type discourse, canon did the mash the monster mash (it was a graveyard sMASH), character death except no one is actually dead, crawling out of graves, sometimes you gotta wait around in a graveyard for your best friend, the Tea Discourse (TM), the tea joke is for fish, the tiniest bit inspired by dearly departed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:21:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27295597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmugglerofSass/pseuds/SmugglerofSass
Summary: Written for day 3, graveyard, of racketghost's 13 days of Halloween.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens)
Kudos: 6
Collections: Racket’s 13 Days of Halloween





	it's late (comes of sticking it up your sleeve)

A hand burst through the fresh dirt, reached until it found grass, hooked it's long fingers in and _pulled_. It was quickly followed by another hand, digging and pulling itself to the surface. The pale figure reading in the moonlight didn't even look up from their book as something began to emerge from the fresh grave.

"You let them _bury_ me." The something accused. 

"Well at least it was a natural burial, dear," the pale figure responded calmly.

The something scrubbed at their head, shaking dirt from their red hair. " _Natural_ _burial_ ," he scoffed. 

"They're much better for the environment, I'm told." The pale figure finally looked up from their book. "There was very little I could do by the time I found you. You did appear rather dead, dear. Besides, I didn't mind the reading time while I waited on you to come back." 

Still looking rather annoyed, he reached out a hand. "Help me out, Angel."

Aziraphale stood, grabbed his hands and pulled until he was free. Once he was on his feet again, he brushed his hands over Crowley's shoulders, allowing a small miracle to trickle down and make sure he was clean. 

"Did you bring my glasses?" 

A pair was quickly produced from Aziraphale's pocket, "of course." He turned and gathered up his book as well as a coat which he quickly wrapped around Crowley's shoulders. "It's cold," he said. "Now come on, I'll make you some tea. The _proper_ way." 

Crowley groaned but accepted the offered hand, following Aziraphale out of the graveyard. "You know, there's nothing wrong with making tea-" 

"Not another word, dear, or I'll have to return you to that grave." 

**Author's Note:**

> It's short, it's dumb, it's only my second GO fic ever posted.  
> The tea joke is a reference to a debate that I had on discord with my bestfriend/editor/coauthor about acceptable ways to make tea.  
> Find me on tumblr at smugglerofsass, title borrowed from the "wrong boy" scene in ep 1.


End file.
